Field Repair
by Got Buttermilk
Summary: Failed flirtation and field repairs never went together this good before.


**Title**: Field Repair

'**Verse**: G1

**Rating**: T

**Pairing**: Prowl/Sideswipe

**Warnings**: Some langueage, Unbeta'd, Silliness.

**A/N**: Ah, livejournal, why must you hold so many fantastic things? ... This comes from the community 'tf_rare_pairings' weekly request prompt: G1 Prowl/Sideswipe 'you're doing this on purpose, aren't you'. I took the bait and ... stuff ensued. Enjoy!

**oOoOoOo**

"Stop it."

Prowl gazed up, uncomprehending, from his unfinished fieldwork on Sideswipe's knee joint. White, slender digits were drenched in vital fluids, occasionally gleaming when the offended knee spit angry sparks. The distant explosions and yelling decreased in volume and frequency, a telltale hoarse bellow signalling the Decepticons' retreat and the end of the battle.

A battle which had beforehand led to Sideswipe's current predicament with a scrapped appendage, an Autobot officer sitting nearly in his lap while performing expert repairs, and two damnable delicious door wings fluttering _right _in his _fraggin' _face!

"That, Sideswipe, would be illogical, seeing that without having your wound being immediately tended to the damage could amplify with, statistically, 68.455 percent."

"Guh," Sideswipe grunted, optic twitching. "I do love it when you talk nerdy to me . . . No, but seriously, get Ratchet or Wheeljack to fix me. We won just now and so, _statistically, _there's a 100 percent chance of a celebration party when we return to base, and I'd prefer the opportunity to shake my money maker – which makes it all the more vital that it's an experienced medic performing the job. Er, no offense."

"Ratchet is tending to our leader at this moment," Sideswipe could hear the resounding echo of a wrench connecting with a helm somewhere behind him, followed closely by a blue streak of cursing, "- and Wheeljack successfully blew all the coneheads, including himself, up with his newest invention and is next in line for repairs from First Aid. Also, none offense taken, but I _will _remind you that I have plenty of experience with minor patch jobs like these. I will suffice as your acting medic for now."

Sideswipe's helm swam with all the clever words flowing from his, you guessed it, long time crush's perfect mouth and let his head make contact with the dust below with a wince. Those wings kept making random flickering movement, tormenting Sideswipe with the one-sidedness of his attraction.

He'd been at it for _Primus knew_ how long: throwing teasing remarks around, snuck his arm around a sexy, narrow waist while he whispered drunk obscenities in his audios, heck, he'd even, out of the kindness of his spark, given Prowl a gift!

. . . So what if said gift had been to secretly trade out Ironhide's standard bath solvent with an electric blue colour mix? On the sketch-board Ironhide would have stepped out of the wash racks painted epically pink – so don't come here and say Sideswipe wasn't a gentlemech, saving some of that old grouch's mech-hood. All _that _had he done solely for Prowl.

And through all these actions that proclaimed nothing but his undivided love for Prowl's sexy, little aft, nerd-itude (a word Sideswipe had come up with himself!), and those lovely, lovely door wings, how had the fragger repaid him?

Well, he just hadn't.

And Sideswipe could sense a rejection when he got one. It didn't make it sting less, though, nor did it help that his at times too imaginative processors still provided him with images and scenarios in which he and Prowl engaged in . . . _fun, _adult-appropriate activities. The things he could see himself do to those pretty, fluttering- No! Bad thoughts! Stop it!

"Please, stop?" he tried again, too mesmerized by the swaying of Prowl's wings to tear his optics from them.

"I already told y-"

"The wings, mech, the wings!" Sideswipe snapped hotly, not fooled when Prowl gave his own appendages a slow, bemused look over his shoulder. "They're, uhm, giving me a headache."

"Indeed?"

Well frag, now the mech was making them rise on his back, stretched and extended from his wonderfully curved torso with a slowness so sensual it practically wiped all coherent response from Sideswipe's vocalisor. Then Prowl manipulated his wings to carefully fan out, and as they were slowly lowered to their normal stance they positively _quivered _with the sheer force and control the SiC was making them move with. And Prowl didn't look even the slightest bit affected by the fact that he'd just given the Praxian version of a belly-dance to a very, very quiet, _would-be-drooling-if-physically-possible_ audience.

"It hardly seems plausible that my door wings should have such an affect on you, Sideswipe.

"Aw, come on," he whined, confused, bitter, horny – all at the same time. "This isn't fair!"

Prowl then, with a quickness that would have put Blurr to shame, snapped his head around to stare inscrutably into Sideswipe's optics.

… Gulp.

"And this is where I say: I beg to differ," Prowl said evenly, a hand slowly taking one of Sideswipe's painfully clenched ones, squeezed it, and released it.

"I find this situation very fair."

A minute might have ticked by while Prowl watched patiently as the lying mech's processors picked up the puzzle pieces and put them together, neatly and in the right order. When he was done figuring it out, he blinked once, twice . . .

"You-!" Sideswipe's jaw finally dropped. "_You_-!"

"Yes?"

Son of a glitch mouse, that sexy bastard was doing it on purpose.

Prowl's neutral face gazed calmly back at his gaping, _'you've-made-me-a-monkey's-uncle!' _expression. His thoughts must have translated easily to someone as perceptive as the SiC, currently tinkering away on his broken knee again without breaking his focus on Sideswipe's face, so he thought it would make sense to add an:

"- aren't you?"

Ah, those lips looked very kissable when they flattened into that firm line he always wore when he was repressing a smile. Then again, they always looked kissable.

"Aren't I what, Sideswipe?" The wings fluttered again, right. In. His. Face!

"Slag it all to the Pit, you're flirting with me, aren't you! And on purpose! You know what you're doing to me, putting me through with all that ridiculous crap you keep making them do!"

Prowl's optical brow rose. He didn't deny anything, though. Fragger.

"'Fess up, Sarge," Sideswipe growled, hand pawing hungrily after the hand that had held his just a moment ago, wanting the contact again, needing it. "So you're flirting with me right now, which is mighty amazing! But why now? What made you change your mind?"

Prowl let Sideswipe take his hand, ignoring the appreciative revving from the younger's engine. He gave a soft sigh as he dropped the small device he'd used in his repair work and regarded Sideswipe with a soft gaze also coloured in mild exasperation.

"After your somewhat puzzling behaviour through these last few Earth months stopped it came to my attention, maybe with a little aid from an officer with a little more understanding of the '_wicked ways of your processors'_," Prowl's face settled shortly in a fun mix of enervation and amusement, like it always did when he talked about Jazz, "- that you had attempted to, how do young Spike always put it? – Oh, yes: score with me."

"Heh, yeah," Sideswipe grinned goofily, before remembering himself and sobering up. "I'm serious about it too, ya know? I think you're the sexiest thing since toasted bread and you're smart as well!"

". . . I suppose that was a compliment. Thank you," Prowl nodded gravely, before adjusting in his seated position against Sideswipe's bulky hips to lean more casually against his chest. Sideswipe's smile turned impossibly wider. "However, if the two of us are going to thrive in a healthy, sexual, intellectual stimulating relationship we will have to work on your techniques in regards of romantic overtures."

Sideswipe's smile vanished.

"Explain," he demanded.

"I do not require needless groping in public, much less in the company of Jazz," Sideswipe more felt than saw Prowl shudder in horror at the thought. "He can get so insufferable."

"But then how can I prove my claim of you?"

"Holding hands will be permitted. Dancing, when at parties, as well. But you must also trust me, in regards of your so-called 'claim' of me, that I am quite dedicated once committed to someone. I will not engage with others when in a relationship with you."

"I do trust you on that one," Sideswipe murmured, fingers caressing the white palm of his to-be-lover. "What about kisses then?"

"Hmm. Maybe," Prowl seemed to mull something over in his head before he continued, "- I believe we might both achieve something of benefit from a mutual agreement upon some liberations in public in exchange for less frivolous activities."

"So, like, kisses in public for less pranks?"

"Basically, yes."

"Taking tactical advantages of our relationship already before the first date, Prowl?" Sideswipe lips curled into a smirk, "Frag, the things you do to me . . ."

"Technically this would count as a first date. Making arrangements and," he ghosted his fingers against Sideswipe's for good measure, "- touching, also being in such close proximity is already a lot more than I would normally allow."

"Just proves how irresistible I am," he grinned back, feeling better, lighter somehow, than he had in a long time. "Just you wait 'till I put my real serious moves on."

"I dare say, with the performance I've seen you put on these last months, I literally fear the worst," Prowl spoke perfectly deadpan. Sideswipe instantly scowled.

"You suck!"

"Perhaps. But sweetspark, to borrow a phrase: _you_ suckat courting a mech."

"Do not," Sideswipe pouted, pawing against the offered hand again, this time with more force. "I didn't realize that you could be such a bully. Maybe you should just go pick on someone your own size."

"That would be an appropriate comeback if not for the fact that I am significantly smaller than you, soldier."

"You _are _older, though. You're like ancient! A sexy, old cradle-robber, who can belly-dance with his door wings scoring with the hot, young soldier," he snorted at the optic brow that rose on the other's face. "And I really think we'll have a lot of fun together."

"Undoubtedly. And it would seem that you are in dire need of an education in how to respect your elders," he leaned in conspiratorially, beautiful lips glistening in promise, " – starting tonight."

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Fin

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**Reviews are the best medicine for my sore throat :'c**


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